


Grooming Habits

by clearbluewater



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Ears, Animal Traits, Anthropomorphic, Courtship, Grooming, M/M, Relationship Discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearbluewater/pseuds/clearbluewater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin attempts to make up for his previous behavior by making Bilbo feel included in the Company's grooming rituals, but things slowly deepen. Animal ears and tails AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to console myself over Beorn not saying the bunny line and this happened. I'm trying to decide whether I want this to just be a short oneshot or the first chapter in a longer story. Would anyone be interested in a sequel? If so, go and drop by [my tumblr](http://inderpendentwoman.tumblr.com/) where I'll be throwing out ideas.
> 
> Also, is there a specific name for an animal ears and tails AU? If not, there should be.
> 
>  
> 
> **Update **: People seem to like this, so I decided to continue it. I'm thinking there'll be two more parts.****
> 
>  **Update:** Now with adorable fanart by the amazing Rhapsodia [here!](http://srapsodia.tumblr.com/post/84399093134/inspired-by-the-fic-grooming-habits-on-ao3)

            Thorin watched Bilbo’s nose wrinkle in his sleep as one of those oversized bumblebees hovered over his face. It made him look very lapine, especially accompanied as it was by a twitch of his ears.

            Thorin had long thought that any similarities between a person’s personality and the animal that they had the characteristics of was mostly a load of bull, but he had been met with doubtful reactions to everyone he had expressed his opinion to. Dwalin had raised an eyebrow at him and said, “That’s rich, coming from you.” Thorin’s tail had twitched indignantly. He was hardly feline at all, and told Dwalin so. Dwalin had rolled his eyes, but dropped the subject.

            Bilbo, however, was very much the bunny. He even lived in a warren, for Mahal’s sake. There was a certain twitchiness to his movements that screamed _prey_ inside of Thorin and caught his attention. Okay, so maybe Thorin was a little catlike. Admitting that was not as hard as the other explanation, where Thorin watched Bilbo for an entirely different reason.

            The others were starting to awaken as well. Thorin nudged Fíli and Kíli awake with his boot. Kíli looked up at him blearily, straw in his hair.

            “Wake up. We don’t have time to be lying about. And comb your hair,” Thorin said. Kíli’s hair was usually a disaster, lacking any braids to keep it in check, but now it was truly atrocious.

            “Mmm. Get my comb, Fíli,” Kíli said sleepily, resting his head on his brother’s shoulder.

            “I can’t when you’re on top of me,” Fíli said, shrugging off Kíli and reaching into his pack for the comb. Fíli started combing his brother’s hair, and after the initial wincing as Fíli got the tangles out, Kíli’s tail thumped the floor happily.

            This seemed to trigger grooming behavior in the rest of the dwarves, and Thorin allowed it for now. It was comforting, and they needed a few minutes of peace before forging on toward the Lonely Mountain.

            Kíli had switched to grooming Fíli, licking at his ears. Fíli purred happily under his brother’s ministrations. Grooming could mean many things, but right now the swipes of the tongue that Kíli was lavishing on his brother’s ears was saying _I’m glad you’re alive and with me now._ For others, grooming spoke of a need to comfort each other and fortify themselves for the road ahead, but sometimes it simply meant _your fur looks mangy and I’m ashamed to be related to you_. Thorin and Bilbo were the only ones left out of the grooming process. Thorin glanced at Bilbo and saw that he was watching the others, an unreadable expression on his face.

            “Bilbo,” Thorin said, and Bilbo turned towards him, startled out of his thoughts. “Come here.”

            He hadn’t meant to sound threatening, but that seemed to be the default setting for his voice. Though Bilbo hesitated, he came closer to Thorin. It wasn’t as close as Thorin wanted, but it was close enough so that Thorin could pull Bilbo in the rest of the way. Bilbo made an _mmph_ noise when he collided against Thorin’s chest, and Thorin started cleaning Bilbo’s ears with his tongue.

            Thorin was unfamiliar with the grooming habits of rabbits, but he knew that Bilbo was a fastidious person in general. Yet it was clear that the fur on Bilbo’s ears needed attention badly. The fur was most disgracefully matted and Thorin used his fingers as well as his tongue to get rid of the debris that he found there.

           There was a dark spot on Bilbo’s fur. Thorin frowned and licked at it cautiously. Bilbo hissed and flinched.

            “You're injured,” Thorin said, now recognizing the dark spot for blood. Old, dried blood. He probed the spot to find the wound. It was a small, but deep cut. Thorin pulled back so he could look at Bilbo in the eyes. “Why did you not tell someone?” Thorin almost asked why Bilbo hadn’t told _him_ , but he caught it just in time.

            “Probably because we were all too busy running for our lives or something. I don’t even remember where I got it. It doesn’t hurt unless you touch it.”

            “You are very lucky that it didn’t get infected, especially since your fur hasn’t been cleaned in months,” Thorin said. And there he went with his tone again. He hadn’t meant to sound like he was censuring Bilbo. His concern just always came out harsh.

            Bilbo’s eyes fell and he curled in on himself. Thorin wanted to kick himself. He put his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders and forced Bilbo to meet his eyes.

            “We cannot afford for anyone to be ill on this quest,” and shit, that was the wrong thing to say. Again. “You play an invaluable part in this quest,” he tried again. “I would rather not have you injured. Or dead.” There. That was nice, right? Right? Thorin tried to gauge Bilbo’s reaction. He did not appear cheered by Thorin’s concern. Damn. Why did everything always have to come out wrong around people he cared about? He could make kingly, inspiring speeches to inflame the masses, but in one on one interactions with people he loved, he was shit. Not that Bilbo was in that category. Thorin abandoned talking and thinking and started to clean Bilbo’s ears again, especially the spot where he had been hurt.

            That must have been the right thing to do because soon Bilbo relaxed against him, and Thorin sat down and pulled Bilbo onto his lap without pausing in his ministrations. The rabbit ear twitched slightly.

            Bilbo really did need this done. Since the Company was comprised exclusively of small family groups with the exception of Bilbo and Gandalf, grooming was performed by one’s family, and everyone had been too busy with their own family to spare a thought for Bilbo. Thorin knew that it was his fault, both as their leader and as a dwarf, that Bilbo hadn’t been fully integrated into the group, and he was determined to make up for it. He wouldn’t be ignored anymore when the Company settled down for the night and started tending to each other. Thorin would make sure that he, personally, took care of Bilbo. It was the least he could do, after all that Bilbo had done, and would do for him.

            Bilbo’s arms settled around Thorin’s neck, one hand reaching up to gently scratch Thorin behind his ear. Thorin was so startled that he stopped licking Bilbo for a moment. Very few people had dared to try and scratch behind his ears. Thorin wasn’t a touchy feely person, so people rarely tried to touch him at all, and even fewer got away with it. The people he allowed to groom him was almost exclusively family. However, nothing that anyone else had ever done had felt half as good as this. Thorin startled himself by feeling a purr rumble in his chest.

            Bilbo looked up at him, his eyes asking why Thorin had stopped grooming him and if it was okay to groom Thorin back. Thorin replied by resuming the cleaning of Bilbo’s ears, with a hand also carding through Bilbo’s hair.

            Felines were well known to be fastidious groomers, so it was no surprise that Thorin took his time with Bilbo. When he at last broke away, satisfied with his handiwork, Bilbo gave him a smile and reached up to return the favor. Thorin ducked his head to make it more comfortable for the hobbit, and continued purring as the sensation of Bilbo scratching behind his ears combined with the soft brush of Bilbo’s tongue.

            Now that his eyes weren’t focused on a task, they naturally drifted to check on his companions. Thorin discovered that they were all watching him, amusement written on their faces. Suddenly Thorin was conscious of exactly how loudly he was purring, the sound reverberating through the large room like the drone of the overly large bees, only louder. Thorin didn’t stop purring, though. His glare swept across the room, daring anyone to say someting and forcing everyone to look away lest their continued gaze be taken as a challenge. Gandalf was the only one who Thorin couldn’t force to submit, and he was also the one who seemed the most amused by the whole situation.

            Satisfied that everyone was suitably chastised, Thorin closed his eyes and just let the sensations of being groomed wash over him. When had been the last time he had felt so relaxed, the last time that he had been taken care of so thoroughly? Thorin felt like it hadn’t been years. It probably had been. Decades, even. Yet here he was, with a lapine halfling grooming his ears, nuzzling into his hair and petting him.

            It took Bilbo much less time to finish than it had Thorin, though Thorin was sure that it wasn’t through any lack of neatness on Bilbo’s part as it was that Thorin simply had less ear to clean. Bilbo pulled away, but kept one hand gently stroking Thorin’s ear.

            “I’ve never heard you purr before,” Bilbo said.

            “Neither had we,” Kíli commented with a laugh. Fíli elbowed him and Thorin glared at him, though the gesture was less effectual because he was still purring.

            Bilbo put his free hand on Thorin’s chest to feel the vibration. Thorin purred louder for him.

            Suddenly, Bilbo started like he had been drifting asleep and had just realized it. He scrambled off Thorin, putting a respectable distance between them. Thorin’s purr trailed off with the loss of contact. There was a pink tinge to Bilbo’s cheeks.

            “Right. Well.” Bilbo said.

            The mood had been broken. Thorin looked away from Bilbo and at the wall. “Indeed,” he said.

            There was a pause until Bilbo added, “Thank you. For…for the…grooming,” he said, gesturing to his ears.

            “Think nothing of it,” Thorin said, standing up and starting to walk around. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took so long! Stuff happened. But it's done now, and finishing the last chapter is my first writing priority right now!

            The very air in Mirkwood was poisoned with illusion, if the way the trunk of that tree was wobbling in front of Thorin was any indication. He didn’t know which possibility was worse: the fact that the foul magic of this place was making him see imaginary things or that this might not be a trick at all. Thorin tried to keep his thoughts focused solely on the path. Look at the path. Find the path. Follow the path. Don’t stray from the path. Thorin heard someone behind him stumble and he thought a verbal reminder of these principles would be useful to the company right about now.

            Thorin found that his lucidity waxed and waned. Sometimes everything would be moving in ways inanimate objects shouldn’t be moving, sometimes he was outright hallucinating, but other times he was clearheaded. Thorin quickly learned to take advantage of these times and to look out for the members of the company who weren’t in a lucid phase.

            He learned to discern whether the others were lucid or not by their eyes. Right now, their burglar who Thorin was paying special attention to for leaderly reasons and not personal reasons at all, was looking a little glassy eyed and gave that boulder a weird look which seemed to speak for him being quite high right now.

            “Bilbo!” he called sharply. His voice startled Bilbo more than it should have, his vacant eyes widening in fear as his ears swiveled to source the sound. “Follow the path,” he said, his tone softer. Bilbo nodded at him muzzily.

            Thorin looked over to Dwalin, who appeared to be sober as well. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” he whispered to him. Dwalin shook his head grimly. These illusions had ruined everyone’s sense of time, apparently. Thorin had no idea how long they had been in Mirkwood or what time of day it was.

            “It’s time to rest. Eat something perhaps. Maybe that will clear their heads,” Dwalin said. Thorin nodded. He could already feel his sanity slipping, so he went ahead and called for a rest. Everyone sank to the ground thankfully. Thorin stumbled over to where Bilbo had flopped himself down, unsure if he was actually stepping on the ground or not. He paused, and Bilbo looked up at him expectantly. Thorin couldn’t remember why he had gone over to Bilbo or what exactly he had been intending to do. He was frowning and his tail was lashing agitatedly at his inability to remember, but Bilbo seemed to think that Thorin’s frown was directed at him and made an unhappy face. No. Thorin didn’t want to see his unhappy face, he wanted to see his happy face. The happy face that he had never looked at Thorin with. Oh look, he was on the ground. How had that happened? And he was leaning on something soft and warm and suspiciously Bilbo-shaped. He looked up and there was Bilbo’s face, and he was making a surprised face instead of an unhappy face. Thorin felt rather smugly proud about that, that he could too stop Bilbo from making the unhappy face.

            “Thorin?” Bilbo asked, and oh no, his brow was crinkling. Dammit, he had just gotten rid of the unhappy face, there was no need for him to frown again.

            “Yes. I am,” Thorin said, touching Bilbo’s brow to try and smooth out the wrinkles there.

            “You are what?” Bilbo asked.

            “Thorin!” Thorin said as if it was obvious.

            “Yes, I know you’re Thorin, that’s why I called your name…you know what, just forget it. You’re obviously out of it.”

            Thorin noticed a twig in Bilbo’s hair, and the obvious solution was to pull Bilbo’s head into tongue range and remove it with his teeth. Ew, on second thought, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. He had Mirkwood in his mouth. He spit the twig out onto the ground. The logical next step would be to get the taste of Mirkwood out of his mouth by licking Bilbo’s ears. Thorin hummed as he started to work on Bilbo’s ears. He tasted so much better than a nasty twig.

            Bilbo let out a sigh that sounded far too resigned for someone who was getting his ears licked, in Thorin’s opinion, and maneuvered them into a more comfortable position. Or he tried to, at least. Thorin was very heavy and very keen on staying in this exact spot, thank you very much.  After several attempts, Bilbo gave up on trying to move Thorin and tried to arrange himself around Thorin instead. Thorin was getting tired of all his wiggling, so he used his weight and strength to his advantage and pinned Bilbo to the ground underneath him. There. Now he would stop moving. And he was making the surprised face again. But there were also a lot of leaves in his hair now. In fact, there were leaves _everywhere_. How did so many leaves get here? How many leaves did trees have, anyways? How do the leaves get on the trees?

            Thorin was interrupted in his musings by Bilbo making a huffy noise. “Are you going to get off of me?” he asked a little testily. Well, he’d rather not, really, but there was the matter of all those _leaves_ …what if they were spies for the Elvenking? Sure, they were laying there, all innocent looking…Thorin squinted down at them suspiciously.

            “Thorin?” Bilbo asked. Thorin needed to get Bilbo out from under the influence of the leaves _immediately_. Thorin jerked Bilbo up, none too gently, ignoring Bilbo’s noises. There were leaves _all in his hair_ and they needed to get out _now_ before they betrayed their plans to the Elvenking. Thorin tore the leaves out of Bilbo’s hair, again ignoring protests from Bilbo.

            “Would you mind going and being crazy elsewhere?” Bilbo said crossly, rubbing his scalp. Thorin stared at him. He obviously did not comprehend the necessity of removing the leaves, didn’t understand how it put the quest, and their very lives, in jeopardy. He could hear them _whispering_ now, spread the news of the Company to the elves. Thorin frantically started scattering the leaves on the ground, exposing the brick of the path.

            “Thorin! Thorin!” Bilbo was saying. He might have been saying it for a long time, but Thorin was only now paying attention when Bilbo covered Thorin’s hands with his own.

            “The…the leaves…” Thorin said.

            “Yes, the leaves,” Bilbo said soothingly. Thorin looked up into Bilbo’s eyes. Then all of a sudden, it was not Bilbo who he was looking at, but Thranduil. Thorin jumped up like he had been scalded.

            “You! You!” he said. His rage choked him and he couldn’t get anything else out.

            “Yes, it’s me,” Thranduil said, having the audacity to try and sound _soothing_.

            Thorin jumped for him, wrapping his hands around his throat.

            “Stop! Stop! Thorin, please!” Yet it was not Thranduil’s voice, but Bilbo’s, high with panic. Thorin looked again and saw that his hands were squeezing Bilbo’s throat. Thorin was momentarily stunned into paralysis, but leaped away quickly. Bilbo was rubbing his throat and taking deep, wheezing breaths.

            “I…I’m sorry. I…” Thorin was running out of words.

            “Sit down,” Bilbo commanded, his voice a little rough and scratchy. Thorin obediently sat down. To his surprise, Bilbo climbed onto his lap and nudged Thorin’s head down so he could get to his ears, and began grooming him. It was a little difficult because Thorin’s ears were flat back with fear and shame, but the caresses of Bilbo’s tongue was so instinctually soothing that he slowly started to relax. There were many comforts that grooming could give, but now it was the like the comfort that a mother gave to her child. Thorin wrapped his tail around Bilbo, and Bilbo moved one hand to stoke it, smoothing Thorin’s bristly fur down.

            “I’m so sorry,” Thorin breathed.

            “And I accept your apology. It wasn’t you, Thorin. It was the woods. What you saw wasn’t me, was it?”

            Thorin shook his head. “No…it was Thranduil.” Thorin frowned. “What is that sound?”

            Bilbo paused mid-lick. “What’s what sound?” he asked, his ears trying to source the sound.

            “That…sound!” Thorin said, struggling to describe it. Couldn’t Bilbo hear it?

            “Where is it coming from?” Bilbo asked, alarmed.

            “Everywhere! Nowhere! I don’t know. It’s almost like it’s coming from _inside_ of me…”

            Bilbo lost his alarmed expression and looked at Thorin like he was an idiot. “That’s because it _is_ coming from inside of you. Thorin, you’re purring.”

            Thorin was surprised at Bilbo’s words, but Bilbo, with an irritated little huff, put Thorin’s hand on his chest so he could feel the vibration.

            “Oh,” Thorin said. But Bilbo gave him a little smile, so everything was okay. Thorin gave him a little smile back.

            “So is this rest long enough for a nap?” Bilbo asked.

            “If you snuggle with me, it is.”

            Bilbo did the startled face again, but then he burst into laughter. “You are so out of it,” he said, cuddling up with Thorin.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter. Within 24 hours. I must love you guys or something.

            Thorin allowed himself a soft smile as he let the gaiety of his company wash over him. Tonight, they would make merry. Tomorrow, they would set off towards the mountain.

            Kíli concerned him, though. He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner, but he knew he was being harsh on himself. An arrow to the leg is not something that a dwarf can just shake off. Though he was here and laughing with the rest of the Company at some story that an extremely inebriated Bofur was telling, Thorin could see the creases of pain near his eyes. Creases of pain that someone so young, so full of life, shouldn’t be bearing. Again, the possibility of leaving Kíli here in relative safety while the rest of them forged on towards the mountain popped into his mind unbidden. It was a harsh thing to do, and Kíli would think it cruel, but he was the king. It was his curse to make harsh decisions.

            “Can’t you stop being moody for just one second?” Bilbo asked. Thorin had not noticed him appearing at his side, a flush on his face that spoke of perhaps too much ale. But perhaps not, because one of the first surprises that Bilbo had given him was how well hobbits handled their drink. It was on the third day from Bag End, and they had stopped at an inn to rest for the night. Fíli and Kíli had thought, in their mischievous, childish way, that it would be a spectacular idea to coerce the hobbit to play a drinking game with them. Thorin had been tempted to put his foot down when he realized that the hobbit didn’t realize that alcohol could come in pints, but at that point Thorin was still a little sore about the fact that Bilbo had come and wanted a demonstration of the weakness that Thorin claimed was there. He had been proved wrong that night, and had been proved wrong many times since.

            “Thorin? Thooorrriiinnn?” Bilbo sing-songed, waving a hand in front of Thorin’s face.

            “Yes?” Thorin said, taken out of his reverie to be rewarded with a lapful of hobbit.

            “I like to see your happy face too,” Bilbo confided.

            “Pardon?”

            “Oh, you don’t remember? Well, you were rather out of it.”

            Thorin had a sinking feeling that Bilbo was referring to something that he had said while in the throes of the spell of Mirkwood. Thorin had very hazy memories of that place except for the spiders and their capture by elves, but he did have one recollection of waking up with Bilbo sleeping contentedly in his arms.

            “Are you drunk?” Thorin asked, a little stiffly.

            “Not that drunk,” Bilbo said earnestly. “Drunk enough to be feeling courageous.”

            “I think that perhaps you should save your courage for Smaug,” Thorin said.

            “Pfft. I’m not worried about that old lizard. He won’t see me at all, unless I want him to. You, on the other hand…I want you to see me, so all my little gifts are useless here.”

            Thorin had an uncomfortably clear idea of where this conversation was going. “Bilbo…” he started, trying to find the right words to let him down easy.

            “No!” Bilbo said, giving Thorin his finger wag. “I know you feel something for me too. I know you’re not already betrothed either, I asked. You’re not going to deny that this thing between us doesn’t exist anymore. Because either of us could die tomorrow. I’m certainly not planning on getting incinerated or eviscerated or anything else tomorrow, but you never know. I could trip over some discarded helmet and fall on a pike or something like that.”

            “That would be a stupid way to die,” was the only thing that Thorin could think of saying.

            “It would, wouldn’t it? Here goes Bilbo Baggins, the first hobbit ever to try and steal some of a dragon’s hoard right out from under his nose, and it was going just peachy until the clumsy idiot tripped over something and accidentally impaled himself,” Bilbo said, accompanying his words with expressive hand gestures. “But I bet you’ll be sorry that you didn’t tell me that you had feelings for me if something like that does happen.”

            “Who is saying that I have feelings for you?” Thorin asked stiffly.

            “Pfft, how about _everybody_? Hey, lads!” Bilbo called to the others. There was a momentary lull in the din while the rest of the Company waited for Bilbo to say what he wanted. “Doesn’t Thorin have feelings for me?”

            “Of course!”

            “He’s arse over teakettle.”

            “Never seen him so smitten.”

            “That is _quite enough_ ,” Thorin said in his harsh angry king voice, but everyone just laughed at him.

            “You’re blushing! You’re really blushing. I was wondering if you even could,” Bilbo said. Thorin’s cheeks were feeling rather hot, but right now the real heat was in the molten steel of his gaze that he directed to the members of his company. But they just laughed it off!

            “Aww, don’t look so miffed,” Bilbo said, kissing his cheek. Okay, now Thorin’s cheeks were definitely hot.

He took Bilbo’s hand and dragged him out of the house that the Master had appointed the Company and into the cool, moist air of Laketown, ignoring the calls from the others.

            Bilbo looked like he was expecting a kiss, but Thorin let go of his wrist. “Walk with me,” he said gruffly and set off into the semidarkness of the streets of Laketown.

He could feel Bilbo beside him more than he could see him. While the streets were rather narrow, there was still room for a hobbit and a dwarf to walk abreast comfortably. Thorin’s tail lashed around like a metronome set to 200.

            “You’re beating me with your tail,” Bilbo pointed out. So he was. Thorin tried to calm his caudal appendage, but it didn’t seem to want to listen to him. Bilbo grabbed it and it curled around his hand automatically. It was still trying to move though, a fact that apparently amused Bilbo.

            They walked in silence for about five minutes more. The stillness of the night and the peaceful sound of water lapping against the wood of Esgaroth was almost insulting to Thorin’s inner turmoil.

            “I’m not going to let you stew over this all night. When I said that we were going to talk, I meant it. Do you even know where we’re going?”

            Thorin looked up at Bilbo’s last question, trying to place his surroundings. It was dark, but Thorin doubted that he could do it even in the day. “No.”

            Bilbo sighed, but it sounded more fond than exasperated. “What is so wrong with admitting that you love me?” he asked softly. “Is it because I am not a dwarf? Is it because I do not have the station to rightfully claim the love of a king? Is there someone else you love in secret, perhaps more than me? Does any oath you have taken disavow you from love?”

            Thorin paused for a long while before he spoke. “It is very uncommon for dwarves to marry outside of their race. It is uncommon enough for them to marry inside of it. But you have earned the love and respect of the Company, and I believe that you would do so with any dwarf who had not hardened their heart against you. I know not what station you possess among your own people. You seemed wealthy from your hobbit hole, but there are unsavory ways of gaining wealth. It does not matter though, because where there is true love between two dwarves, there are no barriers to their union. I love no one, dead or living, in my secret heart…” Thorin trailed off.

            “Apart from me.”

            “But I have taken an oath that Mahal has witnessed and will hold me to. I have sworn that I would not wed until Erebor is once again home for dwarves.”

            “You made me say it,” Bilbo pointed out mildly. “Does this oath prevent you from courting before you reclaim Erebor?”

            “No. Just marriage.”

            “Well, I’m not suggesting that we get married right now.”

            “Are you suggesting that you would like for us to get married in the future? Do you understand what that entails, Bilbo Baggins? Do you fully understand that you will be sundered from your people, perhaps forever? Do you truly understand what duties and responsibilities that would be required of you as my consort? Do you understand the way a dwarf loves? For we love but once, and absolutely. If I fall in love with you—for I am not yet in love with you, Bilbo Baggins, though my heart is balanced on the edge of a knife and I fear that you could make it fall with just one smile. If I fall in love with you, I will never love another. I cannot. Do hobbits love like dwarves, or more like men?”

            “More like men,” Bilbo admitted softly.

            “So you could fall out of love with me. You could love another.”

            “That doesn’t necessarily mean I will.”

            “But it means that it is a possibility. If the hearts of hobbits are as fickle as those of men, then you could swear your love to me truly tonight, only for it to turn to ashes as the dawn comes and you see someone fairer.”

            “We hobbits are more constant than that,” Bilbo protested. “My parents loved each other, and only each other, for their entire lives.”

            “What about the rest of it, then?” Thorin demanded. “You will probably never visit the Shire again. Your hobbit hole, your books. Your history. Your people. You will have duties to Erebor. To me. Duties that you know nothing about now. You know very little of dwarves, for though you have earned the Company’s respect, you have not earned the rights to dwarfish secrets, and even if you become my consort, some will claim that you will never have that right. And through all of this, you have never said what your feelings for me are.”

            “Well, neither have you. You made me say it. But I’m freer with my words than you: I do believe that I love you, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, called Oakenshield. When I wish I was in my hobbit hole, I wish more for comfort than for it itself, though if I could bring some of my things to Erebor I shall be immensely happy and grateful. I do not think I will miss the company of other hobbits any more than distantly. I’ve realized that I never really belonged in the Shire.

“You know, when I was a child, I went on adventures every day, looking for elves in the woods and trailing mud all through the house. But when I grew up…I don’t know where it all went. The yearning for adventure. For magic. Those sort of things are frowned upon by hobbits, you know, so I guess I just…let myself be molded by everyone’s expectations. I am a Baggins of Bag End, and everyone knows that they never do anything out of the ordinary or go on any adventures. So I didn’t,” Bilbo said with a shrug.

            “But when Gandalf showed up at my gate…he said that I’d changed. He used to know me when I was a little fauntling, and he said that I hadn’t changed for the better, and that an adventure would be very good for me. And you know what? I think it has been. I’m not the same hobbit that I once was. I don’t think I belong in the Shire anymore. If I had stayed in the Shire, I would never have known that I could stall trolls, kill wargs and orcs and spiders, ride on the backs of eagles, break thirteen dwarves out of an elvish dungeon. If you had asked the Bilbo Baggins before this quest if he thought that he could do all that, he would have laughed at you and said no. But now, knowing that I can do all of those things, I can’t go back. What other amazing things can I do that I don’t know about because I’ve never tried to do them? So no, I won’t miss the Shire overmuch because I don’t belong there anymore. I don’t think the others would want me there anyways, now that I’ve gone all queer,” he said with a lopsided twist to his mouth.

            Thorin was quiet for a moment as he took in Bilbo’s words. “You understand what binding yourself to me entails, then? You know that you will be mine, forever and always, and that you must remain true, and I will be yours, forever and always, unable to be untrue. Your would forsake your kin and country to live with me in Erebor and do all that is required of you as the Royal Consort?”

            Bilbo stopped walking, took Thorin’s hands in his, and looked deep into Thorin’s eyes. “Yes. Although I’m not sure what exactly the duties of a Royal Consort are, I am willing to perform them to the best of my abilities.”

            Thorin exhaled a long, shaky breath. He was trembling minutely. “Then, Bilbo Baggins, I ask for permission to court you.”

            Bilbo’s smile was brilliant and Thorin knew that he was lost, that his heart had finally fallen in love with Bilbo Baggins, and that there could never be another.

            “Yes,” Bilbo said. Then his smile turned impish. “Give me a kiss, then. It’s my birthday, after all.”

            “Is it?” Thorin murmured, leaning forward until the soft press of Bilbo’s lips greeted him. Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin, and Thorin did the same, lifting the hobbit off of his feet. The two lovers embraced in the darkness of an empty street in Esgaroth, and though the shadow of a dragon loomed over them, it did not matter in this moment.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I was a little concerned about how this was shaping up when I was writing it because it seemed so unconventional...but then I realized that they're having a serious, adult, logical discussion. Why is that unconventional? It was also amazing to write, and I have no idea why I haven't written anything like it before. I hope you've enjoyed my story!


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